Unspoken Moments
by Ready-made Prodigy
Summary: Along with its inhabitants, Permberly hides a few dark secrets. When Elizabeth arrives there after her refusal, Darcy is given a second chance but…will his father approve?
1. When Past and Present Collid

_**Unspoken Moments… **_

**Summary: **The unseen moments as Elizabeth and Darcy work to comprehend the other's feelings towards each other as well as their own. The little interactions at Pemberly that made a big difference in their relationship.

Apart of the _Pride and Prejudice Moments Series_:

_Unspoken Moments_

_Missing Moments_

_Drunken Moments_

_Heated Moments_

It's actually not a series since all of them could be read individually, but they all have a similar feel to them and there are a few references to the other stories. The only reason I called it a series was because I thought it would look clever with the linking titles. Although, chronologically _Unspoken Moments _would be the first installment.

**A/N: **I apologize if my writing style in not in true form according to both Jane Austen's writing style and style adopted at that time period. I live in the present where we grossly butcher any eloquence in our language through poor use or slang. I'll try my hardest. Yes, I have read the book and watched the mini-series and watched the newer version, which I enjoyed immensely. In this story there is a slight part referring to a scene in the mini-series, which, as everything else in a fan fiction, I have taken the liberty to "borrow".

**Disclaimer: **As previously stated, I am only borrowing. Believe me, if I could, I'd own every last one of them and lock them away for my own entertainment. drools

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His hair whipped about his face as he sped on, cutting through the very air. If you were to look upon Mr. Darcy's face and observed that he was in deep concentration then you would have been deceived, but do not despair for that is what dear Mr. Darcy intended and from years of trying to present a constant face of complacent aloofness his success at his deception is not surprising. No, Darcy was not at all thinking about his hasty ride and the precautions he should be taking accordingly for the roads were very familiar and his steed trustworthy. His attentions were far from what they ought to be while traveling at such speeds, but it is easily understandable for Mr. Darcy was homeward bound.

As he sped past the scenery many a happy memory surfaced to his mind's eye, for which he was gladdened in having any interruption in the storm of thought that plagued him. Her eyes, her face, her smile, her laugh…these particular thoughts were close in bringing a smile of his own to his grave face, but it remained that way. For all the favorable images he could conjure of her, her angry voice rang in his ears. Her disdain for him, her assumptions of his motives, her just accusations of his arrogant behavior and conceit…these were the things that Darcy could not erase from his mind and what made it difficult, almost impossible to dissolve his grim expression.

He rode into the stables and seeing no grooms due to his unexpected arrival, he dismounted and personally unsaddled his horse. Darcy had a great affinity with horses, more so than with any other animal or person for that matter. He prided himself immensely on having an exceptional ability on knowing horses' performances only after a cursory examination. He was approaching the appropriate pen for his mount when his eyes lit on a magnificent beast as sleek and black as the night. Its eyes held spirit and its stance showed an impressive height and Darcy suspected that it would have a haughty gait, most likely a charger or used for gate jumping. Its qualities were familiar, normally preferred by his cousin Fitzwilliam. The solid black coat was a give away. Darcy took a liking to this horse immediately. Cautiously glancing about the stables, Darcy quickly put away his own steed and saddled up the new horse, which seemed just as eager to ride as he was.

Darcy rode out of the stables nearly in full gallop, reveling in the sheer amount of power the stallion possessed. Muscles rippled below him as graceful hooves fell upon the earth, creating a steady rhythm. Darcy felt like he was breathing for the first time in days, maybe even weeks. The trees and scenery blurred together as he sped past. If he could just ride away from his feelings as easily as he was now.

Her face resurfaced within his mind, closing his eyes against her disgust. When he opened them the comforting view of his home met his burning eyes. Indeed, his very soul felt aflame, his heart scorched. He pushed his mount still faster, hoping that the air would cool him, wishing that he could somehow leave her face behind, though it was in vain. He felt as if his body was smoldering. He needed relief.

His horse began to circle about the lake that glittered before his extensive Pemberly estate. The cool water beckoned him and he soon found himself dreamily sailing across its surface. As he slipped into the water, at least for the moment, he felt the burning thoughts extinguished, leaving only the wistful, fluttery little thoughts of love.

Had she said yes, had he been more civil or pushed his pride aside and allowed himself to grace her with his true feelings then she would have been at home to greet him or, more likely than not, she would have been riding alongside him and when his head surfaced it would then be filled with her disapproval of his leaping from his horse in such a irresponsible manner. He would smile at her and she would be unable to stay cross and probably jump into the water and begin a furtive game in trying to drown that smile that was able to cease her anger. They would laugh and dismay the servants at their playful antics. That is what his life would have been had Miss. Elizabeth Bennet loved him as he loved her.

Darcy began to trudge out of the lake, his lately customary black tailcoat (normally preferring blue) utterly ruined. To his credit he nearly made it ashore before stumbling on some unseen obstruction and fell clumsily back into the waters. When he resurfaced again his smile soon broke into chuckles and then guffaws at his stupid self. His laughter was then joined by a young lady's and although it was not the one he dearly wished to hear, it was no less desired. The delighted giggled belonged to his dearest sister, Georgiana Darcy.

"Brother! What are you doing there?" she called from her position upon the shore.

Wading over to her, he gave her an affectionate smile that no one but her was ever graced. "I was in need of refreshment."

Georgiana grinned and dropped the dry shirt and his favorite tailcoat she had brought for him. "Then I think I shall join you!" she cried and made to run and then hurdle into the lake.

Unfortunately her brother was already very close to the shore and, being the caring brother he was, made haste in order to catch his younger sister before she touched the glassy surface.

"Now I will have none of that. What kind of brother would I be should I allow my younger sister to follow my foolish example?" he asked, nuzzling her closer to him as they once again made for shore.

"Well, I think you'd be a much wiser brother since then you'd save yourself all the blame for getting me wet since it would have been my choice to jump in, but now by carrying me around like this you're going to soak through my dress and it will be all your fault," she jibed, grinning mischievously.

"And is that the way to thank the brother who went through all the trouble of searching for the exact pianoforte you had long pined for and sent it to you with utmost haste?"

The younger hugged her brother tighter, unashamed of showing her fondness for him, knowing that they would always be readily accepted and returned. They made their way back to the house and Darcy allowed himself to continue to smile as he unrelentingly ferried his sister. Balancing his sister with one arm, Darcy used his free hand to slick the wet hair away from his eyes. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, savoring the sun filled air. He opened his eyes with the intent to once again draw from the comfort of his house, but instead he received something much different. He opened his eyes to a dream, his most desired and perfect dream. Her eyes were watching him with a light he had never seen in his presence before. Disbelief overwhelmed his as he saw her light and pleasing figure standing on one of the back terraces, trying to hide her smile. As his own smile began to fade from shock, hers dissolved entirely and became saddened.

"What is wrong brother?" Georgiana inquired concernedly, noticing the way his playful disposition dissolved so quickly. Darcy broke his gaze to look at his sister as he reassured her. When he looked back up Elizabeth was gone and Darcy despaired at the ache it gave him. His daydreams were very cruel.

As they approached the house, Georgiana insisted upon being put down so that she could call for some dry clothing. Mrs. Reynolds might very well have a stroke if she saw the young master dripping all over her meticulously cleaned floor and furniture. She gave her brother one last hug before departing into the house.

Smiling softly in contentment, Darcy went back to retrieve the horse who was faithfully standing in the same exact place where his rider had "dismounted". Darcy was in the act of walking it up back toward the stables when a voice as cold as ice stopped him in his tracks. All his previous feelings of happiness dispersed. Dread overwhelmed him as the heavy footfalls of his father grew louder upon their approach.

Darcy didn't look up. He seldom met the eyes of his father. That would just anger him further. Darcy stood, head bent, his white knuckles betraying his emotions as the grip on the horse's reins grew tighter.

The blow was immediate and hardly unexpected, but no less potent. Darcy stifled a cry as he stumbled slightly from the force of it, his father's yells reverberated around his head.

"How dare you, you irresponsible, worthless ingrate! That horse was not meant for your reckless stunts, nor was it meant to be even touched by your greedy hands! It was a gift for Sir Isaac Ferold's son, Richard. A much more respectable son than you will ever be."

Darcy reeled from a second blow, stammering, "I-I didn't k-know. I assumed it-it was Fitwilliam's."

Mr. Darcy fumed. "So you are reckless and stupid, which I tolerate generously, but that does not mean you may drag your sister into it. You are a useless excuse for a brother. She could have been hurt by your carelessness! Must I separate you from her? Your influence may very well corrupt her!"

Darcy swallowed. Years of experience had taught him his answers with near flawless perfection. "I apologize for my actions. It won't happen again."

Mr. Darcy struck a final time, finally sending Darcy to the ground with a dull thud. Mr. Darcy sneered at the form of his son, attempting to bring himself to his knees. The fire of his anger began to extinguish and his voice lowered to a normal level, although no less contemptuous.

"We have visitors. I have invited them to stay. One of them in fact claimed to know you. A woman, Eliza or something of that effect. They are unpacking their carriage parked in the front. Perhaps you can salvage a bit of good today and entertain them until lunch," Mr. Darcy said disdainfully.

Darcy nodded quickly, picking himself up as best he could and hastened to the front and away from his father. She stood alone by a fashionable carriage just as his father had said. She was his savior.

Trying fitfully to compose himself, Darcy called out to her. "Miss. Elizabeth!"

He caught up to her and bowed, Elizabeth returned the gesture politely, still refusing to meet his gaze, instead letting herself rove up and down his disheveled and still very wet appearance. Darcy, feeling the inspection on himself, panicked. Was there any evidence of his father's violence? No, just a smudge of dirt on the elbow of his shirt. He couldn't of possibly bruised so quickly. Darcy decided that the cause of Elizabeth's staring was merely from the fact that he had abandoned much of his outer clothing and was only clad in his white undershirt, sagging trousers, and waterlogged boots.

"Forgive me for my appearance, I did not expect visitors," he apologized quickly, hoping fervently that it would be accepted without further explanation.

"No, it's quite alright."

A few drops dribbled down his nose and he swallowed nervously. "I trust your family is in good health?"

She nodded. "Yes, thank you for inquiring. I am visiting Derbyshire with my aunt and uncle."

"I see…" Darcy just couldn't find the right words, "Are-are you and your family well?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Yes…we are all well."

He opened his mouth to say something more, but her apology cut across him.

"I'm sorry for intruding. They said the house was open for visitors and I had no idea. Your father had invited my aunt and uncle to stay and there was no way to stop them. I know I have already worn out my welcome, so I will understand if you choose to dismiss us. I'm truly sorry. Had I known you were here I would have stayed away."

Mr. Darcy shook his head and felt the hands at his sides grow heavy as his previous thoughts and misgivings resurfaced. She still did not care for him. It was understandable. He was pathetic. His mind screamed in denial, knowing that he was only repeating his fathers words, but his heart still sank.

The Gardiners made their appearance and there were quick introductions all around. Mr. Darcy made a point to invite them all to stay at his estate and enjoy any of the comforts of his home. The Gardiners were delighted and accepted the invitation. Elizabeth looked aggrieved.

She was still thoroughly embarrassed about their last meeting and thought it impertinent that she should stay on the very estate he had offered her. She was also wary of some sort of revenge that Darcy intended by allowing her to stay. However, she complied, noticing that when Darcy bowed them in he looked sincere…perhaps.

They parted in the hallway as the others made their way to a drawing room, left in the care of his trusted house keeper as Darcy dashed up the stairs to the solitude of his room. His mind lay in disarray. He didn't know what was more distressing; his father or Elizabeth. Already used to his father, Darcy liked to think that it was more of the surprising reunion with the latter, but deep in his heart he knew it was more of a darkened combination of the two. He sighed when he reached for the door handle, relieved to finally be alone.

When he opened the door however, his room was not as empty as he had hoped. Sitting cross legged upon the foot of his bed was his sister Georgiana. At his entrance, she swiped a hand across her face to erase the evidence of her tears and gave one last sniff before regaining her composure. She did not want to further burden her brother with her being upset. This should be routine for them, almost normal, but Georgiana, being the sweet girl that she was, could not so easily overcome the horror as her brother did. Sometimes Georgiana was sure that he would finally fall and give up, but he never did. Every time he would return and despite any pain he might bear he would always assure her that all was well.

"I've picked out some clothes for you," she said meekly, pointing at the outfit she had laid upon the bed beside her.

Darcy moved forward and set beside her saying simply, "You saw."

She nodded and her resolve broke, tears refilling her eyes. She had never been as strong as her brother. "I am sorry I got you in trouble Fitzwilliam. I shouldn't of jumped in. It was so stupid of me. You already have to suffer because of me and yet I just add more and more trouble for you. If I hadn't been born I wouldn't have killed mother things like this would never happen."

Darcy gathered his sister in his arms, shushing her quietly and rocking her back and forth. Georgiana was reminded strongly of the first time she had witnessed her father's cruelty. Unbidden the memory resurfaced, coming back as fresh as they were twelve years ago.

-O-

_Georgiana giggled merrily as her nurse peeked into the room and left without noticing that the four year old child was not in her bed. Said child was sitting in her closet all in the effort to hide from her nurse. She had taken a nap earlier in the day and was not the least bit tired. Her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her and she devised a plan for better exploration. Not willing to wait any longer, Georgiana crept from her room and into the darkened hall. Moonlight shined through the ceiling high windows and her shadow followed her in trepidation. _

_It didn't take long for the little girl to become frightened. The darkness in every corner seemed to grow larger as she drew nearer and Georgiana was soon wishing she had stayed in bed. She could hear the wind outside and in her fear she ran blindly ahead, closing her eyes from the sight of the monsters leering from the dark. She tripped on one of the carpets and her flight was halted._

_Whimpering softly, she sat up and noticed a dim light spilling from a crack in one of the doorways. Georgiana crawled forward, hoping she had found her nurse's room. As she approached she could hear a loud and angry voice, followed by a loud cracking noise and accompanied by a sharp intake of breath shortly after. Georgiana's mind constructed all sorts of monsters with huge claws and dripping fangs perhaps ripping through the furniture observed by a gasping Mrs. Reynolds. Georgiana stared through the gap, her breathing hitched at the terrible sight she was met with._

_Sixteen year old Darcy lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, his father towering over him, a belt in his hand._

"_Get up!" _

_The belt lashed across the boy's back with horrendous force. Darcy bit his lip in order to keep his silence. His back burned fiercely, having only a loose shirt to provide him any protection. He attempted to push himself off the ground, arms trembling. He was brought back down to the ground again by another lash between his shoulders. He felt his lip cut against his teeth as his face smashed into the floor. _

_Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Darcy felt another lash strike across his lower back. A small noise to his side caused his eyes to snap open. There, peering through the crack in the door, was his sister Georgiana. Her hand was covering her mouth in order to stifle a scream. She was looking directly at him and he could see horror reflected in her shining eyes. He tried to shake his head and mouth the words for her to leave when a hand abruptly grabbed him, forcibly wrenching him up by the hair. His father's hand twisted viciously within his brown locks, forcing Darcy to look up into his father's enraged face._

"_Did I not tell you to get up? Why do you not heed my orders! Are you so incompetent that I must remind you what you are doing by defying me? Are you ready to give up Fitzwilliam? Would you rather have your sister take your place?" _

_Darcy shook his head as best as he could while still in his father's iron grip. "No, please father I beg of you."_

"_Reduced to begging too?" Mr. Darcy threw his son back to the floor, "Fine, now get up!"_

_Georgiana fled down the hall, tears obscuring her vision. How she found her room again, she would never know. Darcy chanced a glance to the door, feeling relief wash over him. He could not stand the thought that his sister would be witness to his moment of weakness. It was his shame, and his shame alone._

_Georgiana lay under her bed, swathed in the blankets she had dragged off the mattress and sobbing softly into the sleeves of her night dress. When she heard the door open, she froze, her heart pounding. Dark boots approached the bed and Georgiana strained to remember who they belonged to._

"_Georgiana?" Darcy's soft voice sent immediate comfort to the hidden child. "Georgiana will you please come out? I do not think I am currently able to get under there."_

_Georgiana wiped her eyes and half slid out, watching her brother suspiciously. "Is it because you are too big or because you are hurt?"_

_Darcy gave her the best smile he could manage. "A little of both."_

_He sat gingerly upon the bed. His father's meticulous aim had occasional miss-hits. He indicated that his sister to join him, hiding a grimace when she latched herself across his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck and back. _

"_Why is father being so mean?" she asked, leaning her head against her brother's supportive frame. _

_She could feel the sudden rise and fall of his chest as he sighed._

"_Father is just sad. He misses our mother. He misses her so much that it actually pains him."_

"_Shouldn't he cry then?" Georgiana questioned. For all the world she couldn't understand at all what her older brother meant by pain._

"_He does Georgiana. He just doesn't want anyone to see."_

"_Then why does he hit you?"_

_Darcy made no answer. Georgiana assumed it was one of those questions that adults didn't like to answer and would shake their heads and say that you weren't old enough yet. What Georgiana didn't know was that people didn't answer those questions because it was too close to home. Grown ups had long forsaken honesty for propriety and instead resorted to gossip for their knowledge. There is a reason why the old sages say that children are the wisest of ages._

_Georgiana began to drift off, but before dreams could engulfed her in its vivid colors she thought she could feel her brother's voice resonating somewhere above the clouds and flying horses playing inside her mind. _

"_There's one thing I do know Georgiana and that's that he will never hurt you. 'Till death Georgiana, only until death will my protection waver…" _

_-O-_

"Georgiana," Darcy called softly, breaking her out of her thoughts. He cleared his throat and indicated to the clothes. "This is an interesting selection of clothing."

Indeed it was very…contrary to his normal attire.

Finding her humor once again, Georgiana rolled her eyes. "You always wear such droll colors. During parties you always resemble a deeply brooding rain cloud! Bingley wears nice colors and he's still very fashionable.

"Yes, well his light complexion allows him to do so," Darcy replied irritably.

"And what is wrong with yours? Besides, I got these clothes from your closet. Why do you have them if you don't ever plan to wear them?" she inquired exasperatedly.

"So that Bingley can't bother me about my lack in variety," Darcy grumbled.

Nevertheless he began to pull off his still damp clothing with mounting agitation. Georgiana stood to assist him, but he declined saying that he could dress himself. Despite this Georgiana still went forth to aid her brother in his attempt to wrestle out of the sleeve of his shirt.

"You are rather saucy today," Georgiana exclaimed, "It is obvious you cannot take care of yourself and since you will not wait for a servant I shall have to do."

Darcy grumbled further at this as he begun to pull on the new clothing.

Georgiana watched him curiously. "Brother, is there something…amiss?"

"Apart from my clothing? No," Darcy answered decisively.

Georgiana helped him with the upper buttons and tsked softly. "Lighten up brother. Remember, dress to impress."

Suddenly on the defensive Darcy blurted out, "And just what are you implying?"

Georgiana looked perplexed. She hadn't really meant anything by that statement. "Brother, I think it's high time you explain a few details to me," her inquiry then took a most dangerous turn, "Is your behavior perhaps due to the new guests? Perhaps even that pretty young woman you greeted?"

Darcy was a little too quick to deny it and when Georgiana pressed further he conceded.

"She's…nice."

"If I remember correctly that was how your first described Caroline Bingley."

Darcy went to sit next to his sister on the bed with a heavy sigh. "I am acquainted with her from my stay in Hartfordshire while with Bingley and his sisters. We actually met on several occasions, including staying at Netherfield Hall together while her sister was there while ill. She's a very intelligent woman and always ready with a witty criticism at every turn. She actually makes idle talk interesting."

"Are you partial to her?" Georgiana asked bluntly.

Darcy colored slightly, but gallantly continued on. "Women's minds always seem to jump from preference to marriage and love in a single bound. I suppose I must forgive it since it is the only thing on your gender's minds, though I will admit that I am rather fond of her company."

Georgiana smiled coyly. "Oh? And may I dare inquire further as to why exactly you are of this opinion."

"To her I am not just Pemberly and half of Derbyshire. Elizabeth sees me…and treats me like-like a person, not some coveted prize or commodity. I mean, she respects me and my station but she does not see need to constantly have such a high decorum around our discussions or change her own head strong character. Not that…well, it's a little hard to explain," Darcy ended lamely, running his hand through his hair.

Georgiana hid her smile with her hand. "I see, well I shall meet you down in the dining hall."

"Why do we not go together?" Darcy asked perplexedly.

Georgiana rolled her eyes. "If you haven't noticed, in your haste to dress you've buttoned most of your clothes wrong."

Darcy looked down and winced, noticing that he had indeed missed a button or two, resulting in a misplacement and ill alignment of clothing. Most appalling.


	2. Hope within the Hopeless

After he properly dressed himself and meticulously examined himself in the mirror he made his way down to the dining hall, taking a shortcut to the stairs by cutting through the portrait gallery holding pictures of all of the Darcy family. Generations were frozen in time on carefully painted strips of once empty canvas, preserving their memory forever more. Darcy, who had met most of the people painted there and had been in this room countless times before, was not at all diverted by its magnificence…unlike the other occupant of the room.

Elizabeth sat on an ornate chair rather uneasily, knowing that the furniture cost more than anything of what she was wearing. This made her feel as if the she was tainting it, which angered her since she was feeling inferiority to a mere piece of furniture. However, her mind was not dwelling too harshly on this subject and instead was fixed on the portraits on the wall opposite of her. One, which had amused her for quite some time was of a young Darcy, perhaps about fourteen of fifteen, standing smilingly in an almost exasperate manner with a very small and pink gowned Georgiana clinging to his pants, hiding shyly behind his knees. It was so innocent and with such affection of which she had never seen in the present Darcy. It seemed so normal, giving rise to the thought that perhaps Darcy wasn't all he seemed. These musings were further supported by a second portrait of Darcy where. Darcy was actually smiling, a genuine content sort of smile. She was greatly taken by this image of him and it often drew her gaze back to it.

Though for all these things Elizabeth was still wary of Darcy thus far. He had seemed hospitable enough, but she could not think of any sound reason other than to corner her in front of her relatives and his servants in a ploy to somehow humiliate her or bring her down. It was an evil thought, but she could not rule it out just as she could not exempt the possibility that maybe Darcy still had feelings for her.

Elizabeth was drawn from her thoughts immediately by the voice belonging to the person she had just been thinking about.

"Miss. Elizabeth?"

She replied politely and for the second time that day found herself surveying Mr. Darcy's appearance with a quizzical brow. He was much more differently dressed than usual, sporting a light green tailcoat, a dark striped forest vest with a beige cravat and dark tan pants. It was undoubtedly the height of fashion, but going very firmly against his characteristic conservative attire of dark and very bland, dull colors.

Noticing again her scrutiny Darcy quickly explained, "My sister bid me wear this."

Feeling the rudeness of continuing to stare she said jokingly, "Well it seems that your appearance is greatly different from that outside your house, but I daresay it does suit you, whether in portrait or person. Your outfit earlier gave the contours of your chest a very distinguished definition."

Darcy could only stare utterly dumbfounded. Suddenly realizing what she had said and how it must have been taken, Elizabeth made haste to retract the impudent outburst. During which, she swore inwardly and cursed all the times her mother had warned her about her quick tongue and how it would someday lash out in respectable company.

"I apologize for my statement. It was ill said and the result of my playful disposition that I have overstepped my boundaries. In my defense I offer that it was only meant in jest and in the small hope that it would be taken as such and perhaps lead to idle banter. I did not mean to offend you."

Darcy, blinking sluggishly, was barely able to shake his head through the thoughts that barraged his confused mind. Was that a compliment…or a barb? She remarked about his chest…she noticed? Mr. Darcy found himself suddenly very conscious of his clothing, which had somehow grown a lot tighter in the past minute or so. And of course, like the prideful, masculine man he was, Darcy unconsciously made a subtle movement to puff out his chest a little farther. Elizabeth noticed and both looked away to hide their blushes.

Silence reined between the two as they tried to look at anything and everything but each other. Elizabeth's eyes were once again drawn to his portrait, proving that even though the two gave every pretense of avoiding each other, their inner focuses were hardly diverted.

Feeling obliged to break the icy atmosphere Elizabeth started hesitantly, "This is a magnificent portrait of you. It allows everyday people the rare privilege of seeing you smile."

"But of course you are not one of those insignificant, everyday people who need to resort to paintings to be the subject of my good humor," Darcy replied and very slowly, allowed the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. It was not the one displayed in the portrait. It was close, but it was marred by something else…by regret and a faint questioning. What did he truly want to say? He knew. 'Good humor' was not what he truly desired to say. No, it was more on the lines of 'affection' or 'admiration', but he had said both these things in the past, thus there was no need to be ridiculous and redundant. No, his job now was to be respectable. But was that not the position he filled all the time? Could he not just break that mold he was constantly forced to fill? Is that not what she had accused him of never doing? Maybe, just this once…

In this moment, it was his responsibility to take full advantage of the surprised Miss. Bennet. His grin turned deadly.

"I apologize, Miss. Bennet, for my statement. In my defense I offer that it was only meant in jest and in the small hope that it would be taken as such and perhaps lead to idle banter. I did not mean to offend you."

In the most unwomanly manner, Elizabeth's mouth fell open in pure astonishment. Did the Great, Ever Aloof, High and Mighty Mr. Darcy just joke with her? Wait, Darcy was capable of doing something humorous? Elizabeth's mouth opened and closed in a fish-like manner for several seconds until she saw something play in the depths of his eyes. He was enjoying this. An old fire within her burst back to life and had she been in a calmer frame of mind she would have recognized that it was her pride. How dare he slight her in such a manner? He was probably just rejoicing in the fact that he had bettered her in a game that she had laid out. Was this all he ever did? Use her as a tool to enlarge his already swollen ego? She fumed. How could she have forgotten what kind of man Darcy was? A little voice of Elizabeth whispered to the flames. Had not that letter shown that he was good? The angry part of Elizabeth stubbornly beat the other side down. No, he had not proved anything. He had cleared his name, that was all. Obviously his fancy house and mocking furniture had rendered her senseless. Closing her mouth with a snap, she gave a clipped reply and stayed resolutely silent until one of Darcy's personal servants arrived in the gallery positively windswept and breathless. Apparently there were search parties out for them because of their prolonged absence at lunch. Darcy assured him that they would be on their way.

"Miss. Elizabeth?" he invited, extending his hand to her, intending to help her from her chair.

Elizabeth looked to the hand, glared and then brought her eyes to the owner of it. "I am perfectly able to rise from a chair unattended Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy bowed and let his hand fall back to his side. "Of course."

Mr. Darcy led her to the dining hall feeling both uncomfortable and awkward. Everything seemed to be going fine and then it just…died, murdered by yet another blunder of his own fault. It was like the two of them were playing a game. One that only she knew the rules to and he seemed to be the only one losing. Perhaps because he was the only one playing. These thoughts were hurriedly pushed away. It was now time to be respectable again. It was time to put on his mask and be civil, where each dip of his soup spoon was choreographed. This was the only thing he was proficient at. A fact that he hated, infuriated that he could only claim to excel in feeding himself.

Georgiana watched the two like a spectator at a sport. The table was the playing field and the goal was to look at the other until noticed and then look away as if nothing had transpired. Back and forth…back and forth. Darcy would watch Elizabeth, Elizabeth would realize he was staring, and Darcy would commence his concentration of his untouched meal. Elizabeth would observe Darcy's actions, Darcy would catch her eye, and Elizabeth would look back to her aunt to rejoin a conversation she was hardly paying attention to. Georgiana thought this highly amusing, but decided that it could hardly be deemed a sport. Sports had winners. What Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam was attempting had no benefit to either party. Georgiana was determined to fix that.

"So Miss. Elizabeth, do you have any interest in music?"

Elizabeth looked relieved to be given reason to abandon their 'sport'.

"More of an appreciation of the dedication and skill that I myself cannot fully commit to."

"And yet you make an effort," Darcy queried quietly. He hadn't actually meant to participate in the conversation. His comment was merely a thought, but it betrayed him.

Elizabeth took the comment a little defensively. "Yes, my interests in books are hardly inquired of me, so it was to my advantage if I learn something deemed as a woman skill so as to present something society would accept and be pleased with."

Mrs. Gardiner pat her arm gently. "Society conforms us all dear."

Mr. Darcy frowned. "It is a sacrifice we have all made as humans to step up from our savage ancestry and make ourselves a civilized people."

Elizabeth felt a sudden flare and though she knew she shouldn't even dare oppose the man who owned the house she was eating lunch in, she did it anyway. He was asking for it.

"There is a difference between following rules of society and being pressured by other people. Mr. Darcy even your own son is susceptible to it. He clearly does not enjoy to dance and yet he is still highly proficient at it," Elizabeth pointed out.

At this particular moment she did not intend any insult and was merely making a logical observation that could relate to the subject and those who were studying it. Mr. Darcy did not take it this way, though his anger was directed on another source. Darcy's grip on his knees tightened and his sister's heart plummeted.

"Your logic is flawless Miss. Bennet, but I find need to correct you. My _son,_" that one word was uttered in a way Elizabeth had never heard before in a parent, "Fitzwilliam, being the rather selfish boy he's always been, is like many who simply show dislike in an attempt to make their own deficiencies seem less of a failure or flaw within his character."

Elizabeth was taken aback at such an outward censure Mr. Darcy displayed to his son. She glanced at Darcy and saw that his head was bent and his eyes downcast. It was as if these insults were physically lain across his normally erect shoulders. Elizabeth was surprised when she felt a stab of anger at Darcy's fall from grace. This was not right. This could not be so. The once proud man was being brought down to this level of weakness by his own father. Elizabeth's father had only held praise for her and she adored him. She could not fathom the emotions that lay within Darcy. She was reluctant to admit it but it frightened her that Darcy could be made to seem more…mortal.

Ben Gardiner was a man of debate, but also one of sense. "Come, come, Master Darcy. We are all entitled to dislike things. For instance my distaste for champagnes. I am quite familiar with them, yet I still cannot grasp the full appreciation I have for wines."

Mr. Darcy's mind was thankfully diverted. He even smiled.

"I would be happy to introduce you to a few of my own stores in order to dissuade such a ridiculous notion."

The two men began to quickly move into a fast chatter over plans for after the meal and everyone else relaxed immediately. Elizabeth noticed that Darcy's muscles loosened, but his shoulders remained in a resigned slump. Disconcerted, Elizabeth spent the rest of the meal in a haze.

Georgiana, recovering quickly, finally saw her opportunity to change the tide of the devious sport.

"Father would you like to hear a new song I have recently discovered? It comes all the way from Poland. There is this new composer…Chopin I believe _/see note at bottom for clarification/_. You can listen to me after you give the Gardiners a tour of your stores."

"Actually I do not participate much in the tasting of fine alcohols and drinks. I would prefer to sit and hear you practice if it does not bother you Miss. Georgiana," Mrs. Gardiner perked up.

Georgiana turned to face Elizabeth. "Then perhaps my brother can give you a tour of the grounds Miss. Elizabeth. It looks spectacular at this time of the year."

Darcy looked up in alarm and Elizabeth commenced to chew her lip, but both nodded their heads in agreement with everyone else about the table.

The parties dispersed in their separate little pairs talking merrily, while Darcy and Elizabeth began their long trek in the most absolute and impenetrable silence ever produced. Darcy watched Elizabeth intently. She seemed as uncomfortable as he was, so maybe if he tried to be amiable…perhaps she would…they were alone…but maybe just this once they could at least be friends. That's the best he could hope for.

He chose the forest path. It was more tranquil and natural there. A feeling inside him told him that Elizabeth would like it there. He certainly did. He liked that it still felt like home and yet the house and carriages and roads had all been hidden away by the trees standing hand and hand and the path, made only through the many Darcys who walked it and the many times they had wandered down them.

"Well, Miss. Elizabeth," he cleared his throat to stall for a little time, "as you can see we grow several different types of trees here. Most of these trees have been growing since before my family settled here. We have an orchard too, where we cut and prune them. but these trees have been allowed to grow wild."

Staring into the trees foliage and enjoying how the sun would peek through the leaves to give her light warm kisses upon her cheeks, murmured absently, "Not wild. They have grown tall and…proud."

"I always felt a great comfort here. There's something about such giant trees that makes you feel less insignificant. No matter how much better you or those around you are, you are nothing to the sheer towering grace of these trees," Darcy said quietly.

"I used to climb them when I was a girl," Elizabeth announced. She was immediately appalled by it and cursed her tongue that never seemed to wait for her brain to catch up. How could she say something so common after he had commented something thoughtful enough to be novelized? It was a disgrace. So distracted by her blunder she didn't even notice that she suddenly cared about what he thought.

He smiled. "Yes, so did I. In fact, the day I learned to swim was when I fell out of one."

Forgetting herself entirely, Elizabeth laughed at the statement until she had to cover her mouth to stifle the sounds.

Darcy was almost incredulous at the smile of merriment that adorned Elizabeth's eyes. It almost caused them to twinkle. What had he done that would warrant such reward? Darcy ran over the few lines he had said in his mind. It clicked almost instantly. He had shared a little of himself with her.

Her laughter done Elizabeth related a tail of her childhood where her dress had gotten stuck on a branch and how she had to abandon it altogether to escape the tree. Darcy couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out from within him. He realized how nice it all felt and how…easy. No matter how much he shared with her she would give just as much in return.

"So Miss. Elizabeth, how do you feel about books?"

The conversations went on and on, taking different turns and bends just like the path they continued to walk on. They talked of morals, swimming, war, tablecloths…

Suddenly the trail just stopped and with it their long talk.

Slightly disoriented Darcy looked up and down where the path had been once more.

"We must be crossing into the property of the estate next to mine."

Also rather confused by the abruptness of the situation she could only give a short, "Oh," before adding, "I suppose we should be heading back then. We certainly have lost track of time."

Still looking ahead, Darcy agreed and turned around to begin their return when he found himself face to face with Elizabeth…at a very close proximity. Why did he not feel her directly in back of him? Time froze. He could see the way her eyelashes curved and the rosy color on her porcelain cheeks. Some people wait a lifetime for that moment, that second of time that just seemed…right.

Without even thinking, Darcy moved in to kiss her. She made no effort to stop him, but neither any to encourage it. Darcy closed his eyes, wishing he could lose himself in that one moment. It was like that time when they had danced together. It felt as though no one else was there. Now, not even the trees seemed to be there. It was just the two of them with leaves strewn at their feet.

He wanted to bury his face in hers and ask her to marry him all over again. He wished to be able to reach out and touch her cheek with a delicate caress. Above all else he needed to kiss her. He needed it so bad. He could feel the light contact of his fervent lips upon hers, the warm breath across his skin, but then…

Then he stopped…

And pulled away.

The barrier that had ceased time shattered. Elizabeth came out dazed, like being pulled out of a dream. Sound returned to her ears and her eyes flicked back open, though she didn't remember when she had closed them. Darcy's breath was uneven and when she looked up into his eyes full of question he responded by backpedaling unsteadily, almost stumbling away from her. It was then that she saw it, reflected in his eyes. Darcy was afraid.

As Darcy reeled with the sudden pull to reality, he flailed for a foothold in order to keep his emotions in tact. He was in bliss, in complete and utter happiness, but then he felt the fear spring anew within himself. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't face her rejection. He pulled back because he did not want her to do it first. He wouldn't be able to survive to open his eyes to see her eyes burn in anger at his daring.

"I'm sorry Elizab-- Miss. Elizabeth. I didn't mean to. I wanted to-- I just…I'm sorry." With that Darcy turned to flee.

For Elizabeth it was then that time froze. As she watched him leave, she delved into her emotions. The answer she found was obvious. Yes, she would not only have allowed him to kiss her, but would probably willingly return it. In that one moment they shared she would have accepted any proposal he made, whether it was to stay like that forever or walk back to his house engaged. She felt it. She loved him. He had tried to show her, so many times that he tried to make her see just how much he loved her. Now it was her turn.

Trying to catch up to the long strides of Darcy, Elizabeth shouted, "Darcy!"

He stubbornly moved onwards, hardly changing speed. Elizabeth made a full on dash and ever so carefully, slipped a hand into his own. Darcy halted immediately and stared at their entwined hands mutely.

"Where are you off to Mr. Darcy? Leaving a guest like that. How would I be able to find my way back?"

She smiled and in her own way it meant that everything was alright…maybe even more than alright.

Darcy didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He merely returned the smile and walked on with her, hand and hand. Never once did either of them make an indication that they should switch back to the proper linking of arms. They walked back onto the main grounds thusly and only when they entered the house did they separate and never once did they think that perhaps in one of Pemberly's three hundred and sixty windows a pair of eyes watched them…and narrowed.


	3. Nightmare of a Dream

_Since I forgot to include the explanation last chapter, I'll have to make it up in this one. Pride and Prejudice was set during the period of Napoleon's world wide domination and England's leadership was left in the hands of the deteriorating King George III. Chopin's public debut was in 1829, only nine years after George III's death. _

_Yeah…ok my timeline stuff is not so good. My copy of Pride and Prejudice doesn't have those lovely notes that some books have. Whatever, on with the chapter! _

**-O-**

When Elizabeth and Darcy made their return, darkness already began to creep steadily behind them. Mr. Darcy invited them to stay the night. The two realized the importance to retain their proper proximities and to conceal a little of the intimacy the shared. During dinner Darcy only took a seat next to her after the Gardiners had chosen their seats on her left. They both were careful to monitor their private conversations, but for all caution not everyone was fooled. Georgiana was naïve, but the Gardiners were wise and could see the change immediately. When the two did join in the group conversations they answered in tandem. Also the two just looked happy and content. Both had a spark that wasn't there before. It was refreshing to see and for every smile the two of them gave each other the Gardiners would echo it. Young love is the most savage love there is, but when it blooms it's the most beautiful.

In the drawing room the process started anew, although they allowed themselves to relax. At this time talking was the main activity that is supposed to be. Not once did the Gardiners interrupt them. Mr. Darcy too was too engrossed in Georgiana's playing to fully impede himself on them.

The two laxed into a comfortable silence when Georgiana's concerto ended to applause from her small audience.

"Georgiana I would very much like to hear you play a nice jig," Mrs. Gardiner requested.

Her ulterior motive was actually quite obvious by now to Georgiana, who spent her even watching her brother and Elizabeth from her place at the piano, thus why she chose songs she knew very well. Her hands flashed across the keys, producing a heart pumping melody with a distinct beat.

Darcy stood and extended his hand. "May I ask for this dance Miss. Elizabeth."

"Your offer is gladly taken," Elizabeth replied, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her to one side of the room.

As they took their places and began the flowing steps and delicate movements of the dance. Elizabeth again felt the familiar streak of evil.

"Do you remember our first dance?"

Darcy nodded. "Yes, but I think we spent a majority of that time glaring at each other."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, not that one. The first one."

Darcy looked perplexed. "I am sorry. I don't quite understand."

Stepping in closer to him, Elizabeth whispered, "That's because it never occurred."

Understanding immediately, Darcy flushed and cleared his throat. She was of course referring to his first assessment of her where he flat out refused to dance with her and that it would be a total shame to do otherwise. He hadn't actually thought her that bad. It was just the noise, the surrounding people, and the fact he just wanted to be ill tempered about everything.

"Can I ever make up for that mistake," Darcy asked gravely.

Elizabeth smiled widely. "You already have."

Darcy was once again in a state of confusion, while Elizabeth floated serenely through the dance. It wasn't the new intimacy they shared that made up for Darcy's past mistakes, but that he changed. He had always been good, but then again, he had always been rich too.

The night ended warmly and Georgiana, feeling worn from her constant playing, eagerly went to her bed. She had not even changed before sinking into the soft sheets and gave a sigh of pleasure. It was so quiet and peaceful. Being with guests so long had easily made her weary. Just as she was drifting off, the door burst open with a loud crash. Bolting out of bed and grabbing the nearest object, a flower vase, and holding it over her head, she braced herself. What she did not expect was the hug that engulfed her.

Darcy held his sister to him with as much brotherly fierceness as he could muster. Parrallel to his sister, his spirits were higher than the clouds. Everything was going right today. There was nothing that could bring him down.

Coming back to her senses and dropping the vase onto her pillow, Georgiana pried herself out of her brother's grip just long enough to inquire on his sanity. Darcy, feeling his emotions set back into place, sat upon the bed to join his sister. He took her hands in his like he had so many time before and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Everything is fine, maybe even better. Georgiana I love her. I think, I think she may love me too. Today there was this moment. It should have been awkward, but it wasn't," Darcy said excitedly.

It was Georgiana's turn to give her brother a strong hug. "Brother, I am so happy for you. Will you propose?"

Darcy nodded. This time it would work.

Georgiana giggled at the prospect of the increase of family.

"You approve then?" Darcy's question only held a hint of doubt.

"Of course I do! Are the two of you going to ride out into the sunset or retreat to the beaches?"

"Yes, I believe that would be the right kind of ending."

Feeling giddy all over Georgiana asked more about the afternoon they shared alone. Darcy was only halfway through the account when a straight backed and somber looking servant walked in.

"Sir."

Darcy looked up and his face fell. Standing before him was Henry Goodwin, the personal manservant of his father. Fear inflated a balloon within his chest. No, not tonight. Not while she's here. His father wouldn't. Not like this. Why now? Why was life so cruel? Could this simply be normal? He could hope, but it was a weak one.

"Yes?"

"Your father would like to…speak with you."

Georgiana heart froze and she felt an icy chill engulf her body.

Henry met the eyes of Darcy and knew that he would understand what he meant. Henry had always looked out for Darcy. He was one of the few that knew nearly all of what transpired between the father and son. He had seen the damages that he had bore witness to being done.

Gulping and breaking away his gaze, he added quietly, "He's very drunk and he…he knows."

Darcy literaly felt his heart stop. His father knew about he and Elizabeth. How could he have been so blind? Why wasn't he more careful? What if she had to pay the price as well? Any hope of a relationship was forfeit now. His father would make sure to that. Gathering himself and taking deep and calming breaths, he stood and went to follow the servant to the inevitable. He knew right there and then that if he walked out of this, it would only be if he could still marry Elizabeth. He was ready to make that final stand.

Georgiana was not quite so ready. Her hand on his sleeve stopped him immediately to see the teary face of his sister.

"Don't go…please."

Darcy brought his sister into another hug, his cheek resting upon her hair.

"Georgiana you must promise me. Right now, now look at me," he waited until she reluctantly brought her eyes up to his before continuing, "Georgiana you must promise not to watch tonight. No! Don't argue. I don't want you to see. Promise me Georgiana. Please, it will be easier if I know you're away and safe."

Georgiana shook her head and burrowed into his chest. He wouldn't have it though and he shook her slightly.

"Promise me Georgiana. I need you to do this for me."

Letting go of his lapels, Georgiana nodded silently, making no reaction as Darcy gave her a kiss upon the forehead before departing. She continued to watch the door long after he had left, hoping, praying to the gods that her brother come back through it.

Darcy strode before Goodwin with a bravado that he worked hard to maintain. Goodwin surveyed his master's son with sorrow. Darcy's own manservant was Goodwin's younger brother, Andrew. The two of them had been one of the few that stood up to Mr. Darcy and his treatment of his son. When the madness had first began and Mr. Darcy had tried pushing a thirteen year old Darcy into the dying flames of his fireplace, it had been Henry who had pulled his master back and Andrew who had nursed Darcy's burns. The year Mr. Darcy had bound and locked Fitwilliam inside his closet for three days, Andrew had been the one to search for him while Harry kept the master busy. When the harrowing experience had been recreated once again ten years later with twenty-four year old Darcy tied to an old furnace in the cellar for ten days, it was up to them to carry Darcy out and nurse him back to health.

It was the two of them who watched Darcy grow with the pride and admiration that his father deprived him of. They saw the fire inside his eyes grow and foster, never once waverings. They watched him endure countless horrors and move on each and every time. Yet for all of this neither of them could tell the authorities. It was against their master's privacy and if Mr. Darcy was able to pay his way out of jail, then the two of them would surely be fired and then there would be no one to stand in his way. They just could not allow that to happen.

When they reached the doors to his father's rooms, Darcy's hand lingered and with the mind set of a condemned man, he pushed his way inside.

Upon his entrance his father looked up from the dresser on which he leaned and directed his eyes first to his son and then to his servant.

"Goodwin your services will no longer be needed tonight. Go back to the servant's quarters and retire. Bring your brother too," Mr. Darcy commanded before bringing the bottle of liquour to his lips and taking a generous swig.

"But sir--"

"Leave us!" Mr. Darcy yelled.

Goodwin bowed and left, leaving father and son alone.

"You wanted to see me father?" Darcy tried.

"Don't play innocent, you know why you are here," he spat vehenmously.

Darcy swallowed. His father was not far enough in his cups to be incapacitated, but he was to be dangerous, murderous even. Although his senses were intact, his reason was compromised, to say at best. Darcy needed to tread cautiously.

Swaying with an almost hypnotic grace, his father pushed off from the dresser and while taking another generous swig, started walking towards him, grasping something that had previously been on the surface of the dresser. Darcy's eyes trained automatically on the object in his father's hand and in that instant he identified what the object was his stomach churned. Trailing along the floor behind his father was the braided tail of a riding crop.

The Darcys had only ever kept one horse whip, which normally hung, coiled, on the back wall of the stables. Never in all its employment had it been used against the beasts it was made for. The Darcys were proud keepers of their horses and the loyalties of the animals had never been breached enough to warrant the offensive object's attention. So sinister was it that it was truly never meant for horses, much less humans. These facts of course were overlooked in Mr. Darcy's intoxicated stupor.

"Take off those clothes and kneel," the older Darcy commanded, indicating a spot in the middle of the room.

Darcy's fists clenched at his sides and he shook his head, letting his father see the defiance in his eyes.

"Not tonight father. Not while there's guests. They will hear and they will know," Darcy reasoned slowly.

"Then I suggest you scream quietly," his father answered, grinning darkly.

"If they find out--"

Mr. Darcy interjected with a harsh laugh.

"They'll do what, pray tell? Fitzwilliam, I admire that you've finally shown some back bone, but still your intelligence is doubtful. Do you really think that a bunch of country bumpkins will have any consequence to the Darcy name? I thought you knew better than that."

"Word will spread. Then even those of consequence will have heard."

Mr. Darcy smirked. "So I see you have thought this through a little more thoroughly. Well, refresh my memory, how long has our 'conversations' been going on?"

"Sixteen," Darcy answered through gritted teeth. Ever since Georgiana had been brought into the world and their mother had left it.

Mr. Darcy's eyes widened with mock astonishment. "Years! Has it truly been that long? My have the years flown by! More to the point, during these sixteen years has any of the servants dared go to the authorities? They could have gathered more than enough evidence and yet not a sinlge rumour has leaked out of this household. Why is that?"

Darcy refused to answer.

His father took this as a sign on triumph.

"They fear me. None of those little vermin would stand a chance if they were cast out of this house. You see, no one cares about each other anymore. They care solely for themselves and their stomachs. There are no heroes in the real world son. There's no one to save you. Now just be a good little boy and do what your father tells you."

"No!"

His father gave out a long drawn cackle, only halted by yet another drink. He strode forward arrogantly, stopping so close that Darcy could smell the alcohol in his breath, nevertheless he stayed his ground.

"Very well, where is your sister?"

Darcy's eyes flashed.

"You know she does look so much like your mother. Perhaps if after just a few more drinks I may not be able to discern the difference anymore. I have been quite lonely you know. My bed has grown cold."

The gleam in his father's eyes was sickening. Feeling defeat weigh heavily upon his shoulders, Darcy conceded and slowly sank to his knees.

Mr. Darcy gifted his son with a hardy slap across the face. Darcy seemed unfazed by his stinging cheek and commenced in following his father's comand. Knowing what was expected of him, he began to unbutton his waistcoat, prolonging the inevitable as long as he possibly could. As he had countless times before, he faultlessly folded his coat and pushed it to the side, laying his cravat across it. Placing his hands on his knees, he steeled himself for what was to come. His heart raced, though he hid it well. He only focused on breathing. He wouldn't allow his father to conquer him so fully.

"Your shirt too."

Darcy's head snapped to the face of his father, who began to circle him so as to gain a better position of his back. Finding no pity there, Darcy began to remove his undershirt as well, cursing the betrayal of his trembling hands. There was no helping the panic that chilled his blood. Without the shirt he would be totally and utterly exposed. There would be nothing between his bare skin and the whip's bite.

"Well, on with the order of business on which I called you here for. It concerns that young woman, Elizabeth."

The first lash echoed throughout the room, stealing his breath away.

"I saw you together and I am no fool. She is below our rank and as pathetic you are I will not have you soil the family name!"

The second drew blood.

"Are you or are you not engaged to Miss. Bennet!"

Darcy jerked as the third lash fell across his shoulders. The question was repeated, but he made no answer. He didn't know if it was from defiance or from lack of breath. The once cold room was quickly becoming more and more heated as the lashes continued to fall. Blood dribbled down onto the floor and flecks of it stained his neatly folded clothes. His brow moistened with sweat and his skin grew clammy. He tried holding in his screams as best he could. The whip continued to tear across his skin and he felt his resolve slacken.

His admission was whispered, half said between a gasp and a groan.

"No…I am not."

Had he been able to see his father he would have seen the exultant expression adorning his face.

Darcy flinched when his father gave him another playful slap and shrank away when he came to crounch in front of him.

"Now that wasn't hard. It is as I expected. I didn't think you would ask her so soon after she had refused you."

Unable to control his emotions, Darcy's alarm was revealed unmasked.

His father withdrew a letter from his breast pocket and let the comprehension dawn on his son. There in his hand was a letter from Lady Catherine of Rosings.

His father made his way back to his previous place, repositioning the handle of the whip in his hand.

"Then again," the whip fell again, cutting across several other lacerations and doubling his pain, "who could ever love such a feeble and pitiful excuse for a gentleman? I could just imagine you on bended knee, begging for her to accept you. It is no wonder that she was so repulsed."

Each word, nay each syllable was emphasized with another stroke. Darcy's breathing hitched, but it was not from the lash that had snaked across his chest. The pain in his heart reawakened and all that he had had experienced that day was forgotten. Despair held his heart in its iron grip, feeding off the darkness and hopelessness around him. Unbidden, a solitary tear slipped out from his eye and fell to the floor, mingling with the crimson drops of blood.

The voice of his father drifted in and out of his conscience, though the pain remained. His breathing was ragged and his lungs burned from the screams he would not allow to release. The pain exploding across his senses were quickly becoming to hard to handle. His sweaty palms had let go of the death grip upon his knees and he was now bent double across his knees. His forehead was pressed against the ground and his eyes screwed shut.

When Mr. Darcy was satisfied he had weakened his son to a considerable degree, he let the bloodied whip fall still to his side.

"Do you love her?"

Darcy didn't reply.

With added force, Mr. Darcy struck his son again, the whip springing back to life.

"I asked you if you loved her!"

Despite the flare of pain at a second strike Darcy felt a strange sensation of warmth spread from his heart and reaching all the way to his arms, giving him strength where he thought he had none. He remembered it then that there was more than this pain and that it was not so impossibly far as he had been forced to believe. The fire leapt anew within his eyes and with new vigor he lifted himself from the floor.

His voice did not waver as he spoke. "Yes, with all my heart."

Mr. Darcy's eyes flashed with anger.

"No! Take it back!"

Darcy let one corner of his mouth upturn. This was one thing he couldn't deny.

Feeling things slip out of his control, the senior Darcy was over the edge with rage.

"Do you think you're in pain now! Just you wait. You will beg to die before the end!"

Taking the recently abandoned bottle of spirits, Mr. Darcy poured the rest of its contents across his son's damaged flesh. The alcohol seared into the wounds and through a wave of burning shame, a choked cry of pure agony was torn from his lips. After that first emision, there was no way of stopping himself from vocalizing his pain. But never once was he brought back down to the ground. And even though he could not keep from moaning or crying out into the night, his mouth never once omitted what his father wished to hear. Not even to stop the pain that was very slowly, but surely…

Killing him.

-O-

Elizabeth crept out of the library in trepidation. She realized it was very late and that it looked much like she was snooping. She just couldn't help herself. She had gotten a glance of the library earlier that day, but had no opportunity to explore. Her hands were tingling with excitement as she let ran her fingers over the spines of books that she could only dream of ever owning. Some of her favorite stories and authors could be found across the shelves with beautiful gold leafing and leather bound covers, nothing like her tattered and heavily used manuscripts at home. It taken all her power not to hide some of the books underneath her skirts. The thought that stayed her hand was that perhaps tomorrow she could persuade Darcy to take her there again.

So entertained with this thought that she did not notice Georgiana until she nearly tripped over her. To her credit, Georgiana was in an obscure position of the floor. Stumbling over a hasty apology, Elizabeth was struck with the sudden confusion as to why exactly Georgiana Darcy was sitting, knees drawn up to her chest, at the end of a darkened hall in the dead of the night and was so inattentive that she had not even made a single reaction at Elizabeth's appearance or mitigation. Upon further inspection Elizabeth noticed that silent tears slid across her cheeks, leaving silvery tracks that reflected in the starlight streaming through the windows.

Being one of the eldest sisters, Elizabeth held strong maternal instincts, rivaled only by those of Jane, thus when she saw Georgiana's distress, unease filtered through her as she crouched down in order to put a hand on the younger girl's arm.

"Georgiana? Whatever is the matter dear?" asked in concern.

Georgiana turned her tear filled eyes towards Elizabeth. "He told me to stay here and that's what I am going to do."

"Who? Your brother? Why did he--"

Suddenly, a sharp crack ripped through the silence, followed by a heart wrenching cry.

Georgiana burrowed her face in her arms and continued to weep, her shoulders hitched with silent sobs. Each new cry, each muffled grunt off pain, she bore as if she was the one it was inflicted upon.

Elizabeth, as if having stepped into a vision, stood and began to walk towards the sounds.

Seeing what Elizabeth was doing Georgiana called out to her.

"Wait! No Miss. Elizabeth, no! Do not go there!"

Choosing not to heed those words and increasing her speed to a full on run, Elizabeth raced towards the sounds. She was eerily beckoned by them as surely is if someone was calling her name. She did not need to be told its meaning for in her heart she knew. The fact that the cries were getting weaker only hastened her flight.

-O-

On the brink of consciousness, Darcy mind was hardly even registering the individual hits anymore. His father had abandoned the whip and had resolved to beat the out of the desired admission by his own hands. Of course being as that his son had collapsed upon the ground minutes ago, most of it consisted of booted kicks.

Darcy's knees ached and he couldn't seem to feel his hands. Breathing was an effort at this stage. His chest felt as though iron bands had been wrapped around them. He could feel his strings unwinding, his mind shattering, his body splintering. Though he knew his father would never break his spirit, his body seemed ot wholly disagree. He was now experiencing brilliant flashes of light as the blows reached their crescendo. Maybe they were glances of heaven, he thought detachedly. Maybe if he just let go…

Between the flashes he thought he caught sight of Elizabeth and found himself wondering if he had already reached heaven.

-O-

Elizabeth burst through the doors with a bang. Taking in the entire scene in a matter of seconds Elizabeth found her voice immediately.

"Mr. Darcy stop this madness at once!"

Mr. Darcy was so surprised by the sudden interuption that he ceased his moments as he watched Elizabeth run to Darcy and fall to her knees beside him, checking for a pulse and then desperately try to rouse him.

"Darcy? Darcy!" Elizabeth groped for one of his hands, while she placing the other delicately across his ashen cheek. Feeling tears prick at her eyes she whispered, "Fitzwilliam?"

Her voice reached him through his unconsciousness and permeated the darkened shroud that surrounded his mind and knew that he could not deny her anything. He opened his eyes as if on command and upon beholding her face he mused that heaven was starting to look a whole lot duller.

Dragging himself back into a sitting position with what strength he had left and damning propriety, he enclosed her in his arms. In those few seconds he forgot about everything. He forgot about his father and the pain. All that mattered was her body pressed against his and the elated feeling he received as he passionately pressed his lips against hers in a kiss he had wanted to give her a thousand times before.

Detaching himself, Darcy murmured softly into her ear, "I love you Elizabeth and no one can make me think differently."

Before she could reply, Mr. Darcy finally snapped out of his immobile stupor and advanced on the couple.

"No! I shall not allow this to pass! Step away from my son," when Elizabeth made no move to rise, Mr. Darcy turned his attention to his son, "Get away from her this instant Fitzwilliam!"

Quickly losing what little control he had over the situation, Mr. Darcy retrieved the whip from the dresser and turning his back on the two of them. In all his life, that wrathful choice was his one greatest mistake.

Knowing what his father was about to do, Darcy sprang into life. Darcy caught his father's hand as it fell in mid swing. In his weakened state he could only match his father's strength. They stood, pushing their powers against each other in contest. Father and son…

"Not her father, nor anyone else will suffer your folly."

"That doesn't matter does it? The point is that I got you."

In a burst of energy and strength that rivaled that of his younger days, Mr. Darcy pushed his son against the dresser and successfully pressing his injured back upon the unforgiving structure of the dresser.

Darcy gave a cry of surprise, his strength waning considerably. Momentarily freeing one of his hands, he gave his father a hard punch in the ribs. The pressure subsided briefly until his father recovered enough to shove him against the wall, his forearm pressed against his son's throat, depriving him the air he desperately needed.

Then out of the blue, Elizabeth advanced with a vase she had found on the corner. Without hesitation she brought it crashing down onto Mr. Darcy's head. It broke and Mr. Darcy fell with a thud to the ground. Not even giving him a second thought, she made her way to Darcy. Without the hold of his father, he slid to the ground, his blood staining the wall behind him. He coughed weakly as Elizabeth made it to his side.

"Hold on! I will call for a surgeon or some kind of doctor immediately. They will come. It isn't too late," she said this as much as a reassurance to her as to him.

Darcy did not respond, his eyes were unfocused and despite her continued efforts they closed. He slumped against her and Elizabeth did her best to cradle his tall form against her. Ripping pieces away from her skirts she tried dabbing at the rivulets of blood oozing from the crisscrossing lacerations that adorned his broad back.

She screamed and yelled for help, for someone, anyone. He was a whole head and half a neck taller than her and maybe even twice her weight. There was no way she would be able to carry him. Though her panic was nearly choking her with tears, she didn't allow herself to grow hysterical. She did this for him, even if he was not awake to see it.

Soon her aunt and uncle answered her calls along with two manservants and trailed by both Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam, whom Georgiana had called some time before Elizabeth had stumbled upon her. Within a twenty or thirty mile distance Fitzwilliam rode hard through the night to get there.

Hurriedly declining Mr. Gardiner's and the Goodwin's brothers offers of help, Fitzwilliam carried his cousin before him with ease, his arms already accustomed to holding downed soldiers on the battle field. He apologized to Elizabeth as he took him and gave her a knowing look of sorrow and solemnity. Extremely careful to avoid further injuring him, Fitwilliam adopted a steady march in order to prevent too much jarring as he farried his cousin to his rooms. Under no circumstances, urgent or not, would Darcy be treated in the very room he received his injuries.

As the party trooped out of the rooms, Elizabeth shut the doors with vehemence and directed to one of the servants to check the rooms for any means of escape before locking them and posting gaurds. To her surprise her orders were followed without dispute or comfirmation. In fact, Henry Goddwin looked very glad indeed.

Trailing behind the rest of the group, Elizabeth allowed a single tear to escape her vigilance. It was going to be a long night.

**-O-**

**The next chapter will be titled "Explanations and Understandings" which shall be an enlightenment to all that has happened thus far. All those questions you've been asking will finally be answered. But if you were wondering, that will not be the end. There's still a while yet 'till this story comes to a close.**


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